Goldin Migration

Our grand plan to live with separate host families last week was partially successful. Per assignment of our Cuenca Spanish school, I lived with my host “mother” Carmita and her adult son Diego in a small complex of about a dozen town houses (of which five were occupied by Carmita’s relatives). Peter lived in the same complex, a stone’s throw away, with his host “parents” Juliana and Pablo and their two boys. Pablo is Carmita’s son. So it was all in the family and we were together more than planned, but we still had separate time to practice Spanish and forge new relationships.

During our first homestay evening, Peter and I came along with our respective host families to a program called “Alpha,” a discussion series on the Christian faith. “Alpha” was started by the Church of England with the goal of attracting new members to the church, and has offerings in a “Catholic context.” The discussion topic for the first day: “Does God heal?”

Carmita is a devout Catholic whose days are devoted to church activities and to cooking meals for Diego (her adult son), the Catholic University students who typically (but not currently, as school is not in session) board at her house, and the occasional foreigner from one of several Spanish language schools in the area. Carmita loves Americans and reminded me often that she very much wants to marry one!

Peter bonded right away with his family. They are a warm, fun-spirited, and welcoming bunch.

Toward the end of the week I began to spend more time with Peter’s absolutely delightful host family. There, we felt comfortable joining in the cooking and family life. As a result, we could purchase and cook vegetables, which are not a big part of the typical Ecuadoran diet despite the lush land and abundant produce markets. We also contributed plenty of wine and ice cream!

Saturday was the highlight of our homestay week. We shopped with Juliana, and then we (well, mostly Peter) prepared a big feast to thank the family for their hospitality. Carmita and Diego were also invited, but they were unable to attend.

Juliana’s brother and his family were in town, adding to the festive spirit.

After gorging ourselves, we spent many wonderful hours talking and even dancing. Juliana has the moves!

This was a good week for Spanish language progress, especially (IMHO) for Peter. Our teachers at Amuata Spanish school were top-notch, readily adapting their instruction to our needs and interests. At the end of the week, they teamed up and announced they were taking the two of us to receive a “limpia,” or spiritual cleansing, from indigenous elders who come to the Mercado 10 de Agosto every Tuesday and Friday.

The “limpia” included a non-painful but forceful beating with herbs, a bit of aromatherapy, a spray of water to the face, abdomen and lower back directly from the healer’s mouth, the marking of our foreheads and lower backs, and finally an assessment of our energy using an egg. Peter says he was a little uncomfortable when the healer placed the huevos near his huevos!

We were directed to wait for sunset and sunrise to wash the limpia marks off our faces and bodies in order to lock in the good energy. But I wasn’t able to comply fully, because I attended another Alpha meeting that evening with Carmita, who confirmed that I should clean my forehead first. Just another clash of faiths!

We are staying in Cuenca (and remaining enrolled with the Amuata school) for another week. Though we hope to see our host families during the week, we have moved to our own place: an old house right in the historical center of town, impeccably designed by its owners, who live in Milan. The Italian influence is readily apparent. Though it’s large enough to accommodate a big family, we rented the house for less than the cost of a Motel 6 back home. Still it’s a bit of a splurge.

We are right in the center of the city, but just down a steep city staircase is the lovely Parque de la Madre and a long path for walking, running, biking, and site-seeing along the Tomebamba River.

On Sunday afternoon, the vibrant and peaceful Parque de la Madre, located at bottom of a flight of stairs one block from our Airbnb house, was chock full of children playing, people working out on public exercise equipment, impromptu basketball games, and families taking it all in. Ecuador takes public health seriously, and people of all ages take advantage of the city’s exercise equipment, which can be found in parks throughout Cuenca.

Between Spanish and spending time with our families, our first week in Cuenca did not afford us much time to take in the sites. During our final seven days here, we hope to explore the “Athens of Ecuador” more extensively.

Ask anyone in Ayampe about Ayampe, and you hear: ¡Es tranquilo! It’s chill, it’s calm, it’s enveloped by an inexplicably peaceful energy. We are told the town does not allow assertive vendors even during high season (which most certainly is not now). Ayampe is quite small but even so, yoga classes abound and foreigners aplenty come to surf, play, live, work, and, of course, be tranqilo.

We spent our first couple days visiting local attractions close to a nearby fishing village, Puerto Lopez. First stop, Playa Los Frailes in the Machilillia National Park.

We drove into the park. Most people, however, walk the long dirt road from the main thoroughfare to the beach. On our way back, we picked up a young Italian woman, Ilaria, hitchhiking her way to her hostel in Puerto Lopez. We explained that we were touring Agua Blanca on the way back, and she came along. This turned out to be a happy decision, and we spent three of our six nights in Ayampe with Ilaria, who we dubbed our “adopted daughter.”

Agua Blanca is also part of the Machalilla National Park. It includes a museum featuring artifacts from the Manteño civilization, which thrived in Ecuador during the pre-Columbian period, and lived independently of the Incas.

Today, some eighty indigenous families live and work in Agua Blanca, guiding visitors through their museum, trails and sulfur springs, and living off the land. According to our guide, with the exception of rice, the community produces its entire food supply.

The next day, we took an all-day tour to Isla de la Plata, which is often called the “poor man’s Gallapagos.” It is close to Ecuador’s mainland (in fact, overnight stays are prohibited) and hosts many of the Gallapagos’ unusual species, most notably blue-footed boobies and frigatebirds. I haven’t been to the Gallapagos, but I am sure Isla de la Plata is no match. Nevertheless, we loved it!

We were able to walk right by blue-footed boobies in all stages of life: males standing alone right on the human hiking trail hoping to attract a mate, pairs courting, and both moms and dads building nests, incubating eggs, and caring for their young.

Once they pass the newborn stage, the babies’ thick white feathers make them look larger than their parents. They shed them during adolescence, and after that their feet turn blue. Fun fact: when the boobies dive for fish and pump their adrenaline, the blue shade of their feet deepens. Below are some baby blue-footed boobies, sans blue feet.

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We also saw other fascinating species, including vultures and frigatebirds, pictured below.

On the way back from the island, we experienced the best whale watching of our lives! At times we were able to see close to twenty whales at once, jumping out of the water, blowing air, and swimming in sequence. One even swam within a couple yards of our boat!

During our final few days in Ayampe, we went back to school at Otra Ola, which offers yoga, surf, and Spanish lessons. Given the breadth of their offerings and the size of the school, our expectations were low, but the programs turned out to be first-rate. We took yoga every day from 9-10:30 followed by Spanish from 11:30-2:30. Our Spanish teachers (Melany and Genesis) were talented, dedicated and understood immediately what we each needed. Lucile was one of the best yoga teachers we’ve encountered. And the setting was beautifully serene.

We were sad to leave Ayampe, but there is so much more to see!

Yesterday we headed for our next destination, Cuenca, which, so far, might be our favorite of all! During our drive we passed through the magnificent Cajas National Park. At first, the roads were entirely covered in clouds, with near-zero visibility. Not just fog. Clouds.

After the road cleared, we stopped to ride a cable car over the most stunning of valleys.

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At the other end of the ride, we were able to take a short walk with still more breathtaking views.

Finally, we drove a bit further and stopped at Tres Cruces, also part of Cajas National Park, which sits on the continental divide.

Now we are in Cuenca, a fantastic smallish city nested in the mountains.

While exploring the city, we happened upon the Prohibido Centro Cultural, a small museum or gallery of sorts displaying dark and sensual art created primarily by Edwardo Moscoso but also by his son. It was a fun little surprise.

Tomorrow, we enroll in yet another school, this time here in Cuenca. We have decided to participate in the school’s homestay program with local families, and requested separate homes for the week in an effort to expedite our language improvement and deepen our experience with the community, at least a bit.

The Canoa Spanish program in Canoa had one big advantage over Vida Verde in Quito: they provided more concrete structure through grammar and exercise books for purchase. But the teachers at Vida Verde were far more educated and talented. In particular, Peter’s Canoa teacher, Marcia, was loathe to stray from the books. And she committed the worst sin of all: she did not appreciate Peter’s stellar sense of humor.

My teacher, Jahaira, was more varied and interesting in her appraoch, but still was no match for Lucia in Quito. In addition to working from the books, Jahaira taught me Spanish proverbs, guided me through parts of a book and the newspaper, and spent time on discussion. Happily, her earnest and hard-fought effort to convert this secular Jew to evangelical Christianity during one of our conversations was dropped after one class.

In Canoa, the beach was long and sandy, and the water warm with very few cross-currents and mostly gentle waves. It was fairly clean, but trash did wash up from the waters, along with the occasional deceased sea creature. The sunsets were spectacular.

Canoa is fairly undeveloped and poor, with most of its streets unpaved, and a feel that reminded us of certain parts of Mexico thirty years ago. The people are warm and inviting, and the town sports a surprising number of hostels and restaurants.

Several ex-pats have settled in Canoa, including some retired Americans, but they do not overwhelm the feel of the town. Happily one such ex-pat is a fascinating Australian woman named Melanie who, before moving to Canoa with her husband and small child, lived in Thailand for fifteen years. There she studied Thai massage—quite successfully in our humble opinion!

Another treasured ex-pat in Canoa is one of Peter’s former high school students, Zoe (now age 24), who married an Ecuadoran, Rufo, and has made this town her home. Spending time with Zoe and Rufo was the highlight of our week in Canoa.

Last year, Zoe and Rufo purchased a farm on which they built a beautiful house. There, they raise animals humanely, grow organic produce, and care for Rufo’s delightful children. We loved visiting their farm. On another night we watched Rufo play soccer, and on yet another night we almost, but not quite, were able to enjoy a celebration of a saint and a pig. More on that in a bit.

We very much enjoyed all the members of Zoe’s new family! The youngest was capitivated by Peter’s reading of Where the Wild Things Are, en español. 

In addition to hosting us for dinner on their farm, Zoe invited us to a huge annual celebration in honor of St. Gregorio, which was to occur the following Saturday at the home of Rufo’s grandparents. We were very excited about spending time with Rufo’s extended family, and beyond intrigued by the story Zoe provided about the origin of the party, which went something like this: Some thirty years ago, a pig died, but three days later, miraculously, it was resurrected, and now, every year, the family honors the resurrected pig’s memory with a huge party at which a pig is served.

Alas, when we went to dinner at the farm and asked for a retelling of the tale, we learned from Rufo that the actual story was a bit less fantastic. The pig did not die, but instead was very sick, and, after the grandparents prayed to St. Gregorio, it was miraculously cured. The rest of the story remains the same… annual celebration in honor of St. Gregorio, procession, prayers, serving of a pig, dancing, etc.

We went to the grandparents’ house for the party at the appointed time Saturday, but it was clear that the event was to begin on Ecuadoran time (and was scheduled to last until sunrise). In part because we had a long drive the next day, we decided not to stick it out. It seems this is becoming a theme for our last night in Ecuadoran cities and towns! (Remember the aborted prison tour?) This event was much more promising though, and I was sad to miss it. Maybe next time!

A couple final highlights from Canoa. First, I loved the Sundown Beach Hotel. Our room looked right out onto the beach and was clean, large and comfortable. The hotel provided water, a shared kitchen, and breakfast for a very modest up-charge.

Best of all, the hotel is run by a warm, engaging and hospitable family, all of whom went out of their way to help us make the most of our stay.

And second, one day while I was reading in one of the hammocks on the hotel grounds, three young girls approached me, chatting away. As soon as I began to talk to them, they climbed up into my hammock! We spent a charming hour playing, laughing, taking pictures, and pushing each other on hammocks. It turns out their father is the guard for the house next to the hotel and also works in our hotel part-time as a gardener. We found it refreshing to encounter children who felt free to engage with adults, untainted by repeated American warnings of “stranger danger.”

A few days later the girls returned. We made popcorn, gave them small notebooks and pencils, and tried to oblige when they repeatedly asked us to draw various animals in their notebooks. Peter’s much-in-demand horse drawings were good. My cat and bunny drawings were also good, but only in the sense that any of the kids could easily take credit for them and no one would doubt her for a minute!

Although our week in Canoa was very relaxing, our hotel was a bit isolated, and we didn’t spend enough time practicing Spanish. On Sunday we headed to Ayampe, another beach town further south. There, we plan to ease up a bit on the formal Spanish lessons, but spend time studying and talking to people. We also plan to visit some of the spectacular nature sites in the area. The following week we head to Cuenca for further formal study.

To be continued…

We’ve now been out of our home for 26 days, out of Colorado for 19 days, and out of the country for 10 days. After traveling across the U.S., and our little detour through Panama City, we were ready to nest a bit when we arrived in Quito. We bought groceries, cooked, went to the gym and attended school.

Just down the street from the delightful apartment we rented on Airbnb, we took one-on-one lessons four hours per day at the Vida Verde Spanish school. The only other students in the school were young teachers participating in the ChACE program, associated with Notre Dame University, which sends American Catholic school teachers to teach for one year in Santiago, Chile. The program has partnered with Vida Verde for the past nineteen years to provide Spanish instruction to its participants before they head to Chile.

My teacher, Lucía, is very smart and, as she is just two months older than I, super young! She quickly identified some bad habits I had developed over the years in Spanish, and I am working hard to nip them in the bud. Peter and his teacher, Karina, spent hours discussing the history and culture of Ecuador (in Spanish), and I think he too was able to break some bad Spanish habits. We felt the school would have benefited from more structure and a more focused curriculum, but to be fair the concerns may not be the same for students who stay for longer than a week.

At about 9,200 feet, Quito is the second-highest altitude capital city in the world (after La Paz, Bolivia). It has undergone rapid growth in the last several decades. The temperature hovers under 70 degrees Fahrenheit, and, because of its proximity to the equator, the sun sets and rises around the same time every day.

Our final couple days in Quito featured a couple semi-creepy moments. First, we celebrated several birthdays at the school. As part of the festivities, the school director brought a long, phallic-shaped water balloon, asking each student and staff member to spank the birthday honorees with it. When it burst, she requested that a student remove his belt to continue the celebration. He obliged. It was sort of in good fun, but sort of not.

Then we headed off to our final planned Quito event with the other students and staff to tour a former prison on Friday night. The tour turned out to be a reenactment of prison life, with the tourists serving as prisoners. The tourists were to meet in Plaza del Teatro before boarding a bus for the former prison. The “guards” arranged us in two lines and barked orders, while a small group of men sat in front, yelling obscenities for a good twenty to thirty minutes, apparently unconcerned about the many families with small children strolling by. As we waited, the tour leaders explained (and repeated several times for the foreigners in the group) that the safe word for this game was “libertad.” But Peter and I abandoned ship without boarding the bus, before we had to use any safe words. For Peter the deal-breaker occurred when the guides insisted we had to give them our cell phones during the tour, and for me all bets were off when they slapped plastic handcuffs on our wrists. After we bailed on the prison tour, we headed in the opposite direction, enjoying our first fancy dinner in Ecuador and preparing to leave the city. Apparently, the students and staff from the school later wished they had followed our lead.

On Saturday we drove six hours to the coast in a rented pick-up truck, crossing the equator twice and passing lush farmland. Although not pictured here, we drove by several fantastic trees, the likes of which we had never seen.

And now we are in Canoa, Ecuador, a small funky town whose sandy beach spans a full 17 kilometers.

We are staying in a low-budget but quite lovely hostel right on the beach, with a shared kitchen and a large private room facing the ocean.

The hostel hosts a one-on-one Spanish program, again four hours per day, which we began today. We like that the program includes a more structured curriculum. And sitting outside listening to the ocean certainly enhances the experience! We are both optimistic about the week to come.

After a 9-day trip from Denver to New York with some stops along the way to spend time with our kids and visit other relatives, we finally were ready to leave the country and begin our South American adventure. First stop Quito, Ecuador.

But before we even left the United States, the travel gods played their first joke on us, as our already-delayed plane sat on the tarmac long past the moment when there was any hope of making our connecting flight in Panama City. United Airlines took care of our hotel, transportation, and food during the delay, which was nice, but unfortunately they teamed up with the travel gods for the second joke of the trip. Our bags were missing.

We gained many “bonus” hours of travel time, but we also had a real bonus—a couple hours to walk along the water in Panama City. The skyline was intriguing, the marina beautiful and our clothing stinky!

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We finally made it to Quito Saturday evening. My bag decided to join us but, courtesy of some prankster at United, Peter’s bag took a little trip through Houston and didn’t make it to Quito until 7 hours after we did. Then Copa Airlines, which was charged with cleaning up United’s mess because our final leg of the trip was with them, took a good 40 hours to deliver the bag to us.

Other than those little glitches, though, our first couple days in Quito have been lovely. On Sunday, we headed out for Ciclovía, a weekly event during which Quito closes down multiple streets for cyclists, joggers and pedestrians. We rented bikes and enjoyed the striking beauty of (parts of) the city and (all of) its surroundings.

Today (Monday) was the big event—the first day of our first week of Spanish classes. I learned a word to describe this auspicious moment—it was our “estreno” (debut/premiere). We are attending Vida Verde Spanish School, which is just a couple blocks from our Airbnb, and so far, so good. And just across the street I found a gym with interval training. All is well in Quito!

My husband Peter and I find ourselves at an incredibly fortunate juncture. Each of us has earned a public pension at a relatively (very!) young age: he from a career as a civics and history teacher and I from a career as a lawyer for the state of Colorado. It’s time to migrate to a new life!

For years, knowing this moment was on the horizon, Peter and I obsessed over what we wanted to do when we “grew up.” We went over (and over) the possibilities. I made countless (incredibly helpful) suggestions to Peter. Like any good husband, he ignored me. Likewise, Peter made countless suggestions to me, the most frequent of which was that I should open an immigration law practice. He supported the suggestion with multiple, admittedly quite valid reasons. Like any good wife, I ignored him.

But over the past couple years, as the country has entered a particularly cruel and ugly era, I began to think Peter may have been right all along. Last September, I attended the Rocky Mountain Immigrant Advocacy Network’s (RMIAN) day-long seminar designed to recruit and provide basic training to potential pro bono immigration attorneys. I took on a few small cases for RMIAN, and I was hooked.

I was able to speak with my RMIAN clients in Spanish, but not confidently or competently enough to have the most important conversations without an interpreter. It was clear I needed to improve! Conveniently enough, one of Peter’s life-long goals has been to master Spanish. And we both wanted to take some time during this migratory phase of our lives to see the world.

A decision was made: We would travel through the majority of the countries in South America. Along the way, we would enroll in formal Spanish programs in multiple cities and towns while experiencing the wonders of the continent. Upon our return, my goal is to follow Peter’s (wise) suggestion to become an immigration attorney, or in some other way to use my legal skills and—I hope—greatly improved Spanish fluency in service to those who migrate.

This blog is for our friends and family who want to follow our migration.